Sunday, March 05, 2017

born to catch butterflies on her tongue

for Claire

She was born to catch butterflies on her tongue.
With shooting stars in her eyes,
she would wait for the rain
to wash the day
out of her hair.
Sitting on a small, dry patch of grass,
she closes her eyes
and waits
anticipating the flutter of her tongue.

As a child
she advised balloons
how to bounce and stretch.
She interrogated hens
until they told her
the truth.

When she tires, she closes her eyes
and shrinks to the size of a pea,
and hides under a maple leaf
in the backyard.
She feels safe there
resting and dreaming
of a world filled
with butterfly wings.

1 comment:

Adrian Neibauer, EdD said...

Hello everyone! Here is my latest poem. What do you think of my line breaks? Should I try and be more like the Romantic poets and place more structure with my lines and ending sounds? Perhaps a rhyme scheme? I feel that this poem has a pastoral sound and some images, but I don't know if I should imitate Wordsworth or completely or if I should move more in the direction of Tennyson, or just leave it a free verse poem. What are your thoughts?